


Linaria Bipartita

by LittleMissXanda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Rituals, Souls, Supernatural Elements, bit of blood at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissXanda/pseuds/LittleMissXanda
Summary: To Harry, Tom Riddle and Voldemort had always been two different people. He had never expected to be proven right.





	Linaria Bipartita

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auspicium (latenightfangirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightfangirl/gifts).



 

 

_Linaria Bipartita_

This, Harry knew, was a bad idea. It might not be the worst idea he ever had but, if he was being honest, it was right up there.

However, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Three weeks. He had been at Hogwarts for three weeks, and he was ready to murder every single one of the people inside the castle. Alright, he wouldn’t outright murder anyone, but still… If things continued the way they were going, he would curse the next person he came across into next week.

As if the students looking at him like he was the lovechild of Grindelwald and Voldemort wasn’t bad enough, there was Umbridge to deal with.

So, irritating students plus Umbridge had led to Harry needing a little time to himself. Unfortunately, this year, not even their dorm let him have a bit of peace since Seamus had jumped right onto the Harry-is-insane bandwagon. Which led Harry to this bad, really bad, idea.

He lifted his wand a bit more, trying to illuminate the path a little better.

“Brilliant, Harry,” he whispered, “clearly there was no other place to find some peace aside from the Forbidden Forest.”

He still didn’t know what he had been thinking when he had ventured into the Forest. It had started as an innocent stroll around the lake—sure, it was well after curfew, but all in all, pretty innocent.

However, someone seemed to have had the same idea because as Harry had approached a little niche of trees, he had heard sounds that had had him walking in the opposite direction as fast as he could. He might have a tenuous control over his hormones most days—as any teenager—but voyeurism wasn’t really his cup of tea. Before he knew it, his hasty retreat had led him into the forest.

Then, because thinking clearly wasn’t a thing he seemed to do when he was stressed, he had decided to find a nice, quiet place in the forest. The Forbidden Forest. Home to creepy crawlies big enough to eat him whole.

Again, an absolutely brilliant idea.

He swirled around when he heard leaves crunching behind him. He strained his hearing, trying to catch any other sounds. Then, faintly, he heard footsteps.

Great… just great.

He should remain where he was, it was probably a professor or someone from Hogsmeade. However, as the crunching grew louder, and the footsteps came closer, Harry ran.

He stumbled over roots and fallen branches, his breath overly loud in the stillness of the Forest, but he could still hear the crunching and the footsteps, and he kept running and running.

Then he stumbled.

He landed in a clearing. He scrambled to his feet, looking around. There was still crunching and footsteps, but they weren’t coming closer. He heard them circling around the clearing, almost as if they were looking for him but unable to see him.

His grip on his wand tightened.

“Who’s there?” Harry called.

The footsteps stopped to his right, and Harry turned, wand pointing towards the shadows of the trees.

Then, slowly, the footsteps came closer, only to stop right before entering the clearing.

“I wonder… what are you doing out in the Forest?”

Harry’s heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. Then, it sped up so fast he was sure it would jump right out of his chest. That voice, he would never forget that voice.

“Tom?” Harry whispered, stumbling back.

The figure shifted, and a ray of moonlight illuminated his features.

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry took another step back, his arm wavering.

“I killed you.”

Tom’s lips twitched, and he shook his head.

“You destroyed the receptacle that housed me. However, to kill a soul you need far more than basilisk venom.” Tom tilted his head. “Actually, if I were any less than what I am, it would have been enough for me to… move on, let’s say.” Tom’s lips twitched again. “Things like me can’t survive without their receptacle holding them to this plane of existence.”

Tom hadn’t moved from his spot, but Harry didn’t dare to lower his wand.

“You’re solid.” Because the crunching of the leaves and the footsteps hadn’t been his imagination.

Tom nodded. “For now.”

Harry frowned, straightening. “Why aren’t you attacking me?”

If there was one thing Tom and Voldemort shared, it was the desire to hurt Harry. It was something he had expected from Voldemort, but he still remembered the stark sting of betrayal when Tom had tried to kill him. He had considered Tom a confident, a friend. Under the cover of the night, while everyone had been sleeping, Harry had mourned him even knowing who Tom had become.

“Do you know where you are?” Tom asked instead of answering.

Harry glanced around from the corner of his eyes. “A clearing?”

Tom chuckled, and Harry hated himself a little for finding the sound comforting.

“You’re inside a circle of mistletoe.” At Harry’s uncomprehending look, Tom elaborated, “It’s old magic. Older than Hogwarts. This is a druidic circle. The mistletoe signifies that it is a meeting place where no violence can occur.” Tom looked around. “The magic cannot be broken. It is older than even this forest that grew around it.”

Slowly, Harry lowered his wand. Harry was sure that Snape would have called him an arrogant dunderhead—at the very least—for doing it, but part of him couldn’t help but believe Tom.

“So… you can’t hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t even if you weren’t inside the circle.”

Harry snorted. He might not be as smart as Hermione, but he wasn’t that stupid. There was only so much he could believe from Tom.

Tom smiled, as if in agreement with him. Tom looked at the moon and frowned. He waved his hand, conjuring a flower—leaving Harry marveled at the display of magic— and placed it on the edge of the clearing, before looking back up at Harry.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Then, between one blink and the next, Tom was gone.

Harry stood in place, looking at where Tom had been, for several moments. He wanted to believe that the whole encounter had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. He would have managed to convince himself, if not for the flower placed innocently in front of him.

He walked closer and picked it up. Gently, he brushed his fingertips over the small petals. He knew the flower. He had taken care of some in his aunt’s garden, though those had had reddish-purple petals instead of white. Clovenlip toadflax, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Carefully, he placed the flower in his pocket, then raised his wand once again and started making his way back to Hogwarts, ready to forget this night ever happened.

***

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here again, Harry.”

Harry turned, wand raised.

Tom was at the edge of the clearing again, a small frown on his features.

“You shouldn’t come to the Forest. Even if the circle is safe, the Forest isn’t.”

Harry snorted, wand still raised. “It can’t be much worse than Hogwarts,” he muttered.

Tom’s frown deepened. “Umbridge?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about her?”

Tom tilted his head, and Harry’s lips twitched. Harry never would have thought that Tom’s mannerisms would be more like a bird than a snake.

“I am corporeal only when the magic of the underworld is at its strongest. I have not passed; however, the pull I feel to the other side is constant. Most of the time, I am more on the other side than here.”

“The witching hour,” Harry murmured, and Tom chuckled.

“Yes. Incorrectly named by the Muggles. There’s no bad luck during that time. It is simply a time where necromantic magic is stronger since the veil between the realms is thinner.” Tom took a step closer, almost crossing into the clearing. “I still have bonds to this side of the veil, and my will to live has always been stronger than normal, so I cross and my magic wills me into a corporeal form. I am _soul_ , and magic _is_ our soul.”

That made a strange sort of sense. No matter how much Purebloods preached about blood purity, Harry had always known that magic couldn’t be in the blood. How could it be when there were Muggleborns? Their parents had that same blood in their veins. If magic was in the blood, wouldn’t the parents be magical as well?

But souls?

Muggle, a soul without magic.

Wizard, a soul with magic.

Harry nodded, and Tom’s smile lit up his whole face.

“That still doesn’t tell me how you know about Umbridge.”

“Ah, yes.” Tom leaned against the ancient tree that hosted one of the mistletoes forming the circle. “On the other side, we can peak through the veil. Most of the time, I…” Tom looked away from him. “I keep my eye on Hogwarts.”

Harry felt his heart constrict. He could understand that. On the other side, Tom kept an eye on his home.

“You should tell someone about what she’s doing,” Tom told him after several moments of silence, “and I don’t mean your friends.”

Harry reached for his scarred hand on instinct.

“What do you care?” he snarled. “You probably enjoy watching her torture me.”

Tom stepped back into the shadows of the trees, and then, between one blink and the next he was gone, leaving in his place a bouquet of rue flowers.

***

Harry cursed himself for once again making his way towards the clearing. He had stayed away for a whole week. However, when things got too much for him at Hogwarts, he had found himself walking the familiar path back towards the clearing. If there was a part of him hoping to find Tom there once more, he was perfectly happy ignoring that part.

He reached the clearing and looked around, treacherously hoping to see Tom. He told himself that he didn’t feel disappointed when Tom wasn’t there.

“What am I doing?” he muttered, dropping to the ground.

Tom was Voldemort. Voldemort wanted to kill him. Voldemort was evil. It was as simple as that. Then why wasn’t his stupid heart agreeing with his mind?

Tom wasn’t his friend. Tom wasn’t someone he could rely on. Tom wasn’t someone to be trusted. Then why was he so happy that Tom wasn’t truly dead?

He groaned, flopping backward. Harry closed his eyes, and his treacherous mind conjured an image of Tom.

“I hate you,” he whispered, knowing the words to be a lie.

Hours later, when he woke up with a thick green blanket covering him, the first thing he saw was a bunch of lavender flowers neatly placed beside him.

***

“Thank you for the blanket,” Harry said when he saw the silhouette approaching the clearing.

Harry had gone to the clearing every night for the last four nights, and Tom had been a no-show for every single one of them. Harry had decided that this would be the last time he went to the clearing if Tom didn’t show up. Even though he told himself that the reason he wouldn’t be going anymore was that Hermione had started to notice his nighttime wanderings.

As always, Tom stopped just before crossing into the clearing.

“You’re welcome.” Tom smiled, and Harry told himself he didn’t find Tom’s smile better than Cho’s. “How are you?”

Harry laughed, sitting on the ground and leaning against a protruding root. “Don’t you know already? I thought you spent your time spying the goings on at Hogwarts.”

Tom hummed, walking closer towards Harry’s side of the clearing.

“I try not to be a stalker.”

“Try?” Harry didn’t take his eyes off Tom.

“I mostly succeed.” Tom stopped beside the tree right next to Harry. “Though, I confess that I look in on you far more than I should.”

“I doubt I’m that interesting.”

“You fascinate me.”

Slowly, Harry sat back up. “You told me that in second year.”

Tom didn’t look away, and Harry once again marveled at how expressive the dark blue eyes were. So very different from the rusty-red ones, bright with insanity, that he remembered from the graveyard.

“You did then, too,” Tom said. “Not quite in the same way. You would be surprised at how much your sanity suffers when you find yourself isolated from everything for over fifty years.”

Harry stood up, walking closer to Tom. He stopped just out of arm’s reach.

“So, we’re blaming it on insanity?”

Tom shook his head. “No. I blame my lack of humanity on no one but myself. However, it remains true that I have regained something I never knew I had given up. I never understood the need for emotional attachments. I still think that they are bothersome. However, no matter how much I fooled myself into thinking otherwise, I was an _emotional_ creature. All my actions were driven by emotions. Mostly negative ones, but emotions all the same. The positive ones, those were few and far between, but they were there. My love of learning was not a fabrication to appear as the perfect student. I truly took pleasure in learning about magic. It is true that I found pleasure in few things, and cherished even less, but those emotions were there. I didn’t know I would be giving that up by creating the diary.”

Harry stared at Tom, as fascinated by Tom as Tom said he was by Harry.

“When your soul touched me, it woke everything up. You can’t imagine the agony of _feeling_ when you’ve spent decades as a shell.”

Tom laughed. The sound was bitter and harsh, and Harry flinched away.

“I’ve seen what I’ve become. I am glad I created the diary, even if it caused me untold agony, if for no other reason than because it prevented _me_ from becoming that. There is nothing of Tom Riddle left.”

Harry frowned then. “I thought you wanted to get rid of your name.”

Tom smiled, a small, soft thing. “My name, yes; but not myself.”

Then he was gone, beautiful campanulas remaining in his wake.

***

Harry hesitated going to what he had come to consider their clearing, even though Tom had never set foot inside.

He shouldn’t be having secret meetings with Voldemort. _Tom_ , a voice in his mind argued, and it was getting harder to ignore that voice.

No matter how much he tried, Harry couldn’t equate Tom to Voldemort. Voldemort was insanity and pain and suffering and death.

Tom was… betrayal.

There couldn’t have been betrayal if there hadn’t been something else.

“Staying in?”

Harry startled out of his thoughts, looking around. Hermione had taken a seat on the armchair beside the sofa he had commandeered near the fireplace.

“What?” he mumbled.

Hermione smiled at him, gentle and far too knowing.

“Honestly, Harry, I’m not blind. Besides, even Ron has noticed that you’ve been absent for several nights. And you know that if Ron noticed then you weren’t being particularly subtle.”

They shared a fond look, glancing at the red-head that was thrashing some poor seventh year in a chess match.

The moment of levity was short-lived, and Harry slumped on the sofa.

He felt Hermione cast a few spells around, and Harry was thankful for the privacy she was providing, even if he didn’t know if he wanted to talk about any of it.

“I thought you were meeting up with someone,” Hermione said, leaning forward. “But you’re not looking like some teenager in love.”

Harry snorted. “You’re a teenager, too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, and between the two of us, who’s the more level-headed one?”

Well, there was no arguing that.

“I did something bad.”

That was the truth, but why didn’t it feel like it?

Hermione didn’t say anything, she continued to look at him with that warm and understand expression on her face.

“I’ve been going to the Forbidden Forest.”

“Harry,” Hermione breathed, her eyes wide, and Harry had to look away.

“I…” he swallowed. He looked back at her. “You know, in second year, the diary?”

“V-vo-voldemort’s diary,” Hermione said, nodding.

“Tom’s diary,” Harry corrected, and her eyes narrowed.

“I think, we should go up to the dorm.”

She got up, breaking the spells around them, and marched right up to the boy’s dormitory. Harry left with no choice, followed her. Once he was in the dorm, Hermione sealed the door and silenced the room.

She stayed facing the door for several moments. Harry could see her taking deep breaths. Then, she turned and sat on Ron’s bed.

“I wasn’t aware there was a difference.” There was no accusation in her tone, no condemnation in her eyes. “Harry?”

“I hate Voldemort.” He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, looking down. “Voldemort killed my parents. Killed hundreds of people. Voldemort’s a monster.”

“And Tom isn’t.”

Harry’s head snapped up, wide-eyed. Hermione smiled at him. There was a sad understanding in her eyes.

“He was your friend. You could never be friends with a monster.” She sighed. “I don’t think he was a good person, but he wasn’t as bad as Voldemort. At least, not yet.”

Slowly, he went to sit beside Hermione and leaned against her.

“I destroyed the diary,” Harry whispered.

Hermione hummed.

“I… I didn’t destroy him.”

Harry felt Hermione hold her breath, and he was half expecting her to push him away. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him tight.

“You’ve been meeting him in the Forest.”

Well, no one could accuse Hermione of being slow.

“Harry, he tried to kill you. He could kill you!” She didn’t raise her voice, but there was a sharpness to her tone that made him feel far worse than if she had yelled.

“Do you know what a druidic mistletoe circle is?” he asked, and from her sharp intake of breath, he deduced she did.

“There’s one in the Forest?” she whispered. “Do you know how old that magic is? We’re talking ancient times old. Older than Hogwarts. Older than Latin-based magic.” She pushed him away gently, and Harry raised his head. “Tell me everything,” she said, and Harry did.

He stumbled through his tale, jumping from place to place, his frustration bleeding through; however, Hermione didn’t interrupt him once.

When he was done, he felt lighter. His mind was still a mess, his heart was even worse, but at least he didn’t feel as if he would explode any moment.

“He leaves flowers when he goes?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “From everything I said, that’s what you take from it?”

Her lips twitched. “Yes, Harry. Now, flowers?”

Harry nodded.

“Do you remember which ones?”

Harry blushed. He got up from Ron’s bed and went to his trunk. He rummaged through it, taking an old divination dream-journal from inside.

Hesitantly, he held it out for Hermione to take.

“They’re in order,” he said, not looking at her.

She took it.

“Oh,” Hermione whispered, wonder in her tone. “He’s truly gifted, powerful.”

Harry looked at her, and sensing his look, Hermione looked up from the journal.

“Conjurations aren’t permanent. They only last for as long as they have magic to sustain them. It’s a sign of how powerful he is, even as an incomplete soul, that these still exist.”

She gently ran her fingertips over the petals, and Harry had to stop himself from snatching the journal from her hands. Now that he had shown them to someone else, it felt strangely intimate. As if the flowers had been a message meant only for him.

“Clovenlip toadflax, rue, lavender, campanulas,” Hermione murmured, fingertips still gently touching the petals. “I see.”

She closed the journal, holding it between the palm of her hands, eyes never moving from the cover.

When she looked up, she was smiling. She handed the journal over, and Harry took it, resisting the urge to hold it close to his chest. He put it back inside his trunk, and when he looked at Hermione again she was grinning.

“Well?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

Harry frowned.

Hermione shook her head and got up from the bed. She unlocked the door and shoved him out of the dorm.

“You’re late. Don’t get caught sneaking out.”

“What?” He stumbled out of the dorm, looking back at her. “Hermione?”

“It’s rude to leave your date waiting.”

His eyes widened, and Hermione’s grin turned into a smirk that wouldn’t have been out of place on Malfoy’s features.

“I have things to work on, don’t come back too late,” she told him, and then slammed the door on his face.

Harry was still in a daze when he reached the clearing. Part of it came from Hermione’s reaction, a larger part of it was from Hermione calling Tom his date. Not because he disliked it but because he would rather not think about how much he liked it.

“I didn’t think you would come today.”

Harry glanced up as Tom stopped just beside him, outside the circle.

“Didn’t you see I was busy?”

Tom smiled at him.

“I did tell you that I tried not to be a stalker. What kept you busy?”

Harry shrugged. “Hermione wanted to talk a bit. Said I was absent most nights, she wanted to catch up.”

Tom tilted his head. “Hermione? The smart Muggleborn?”

“What? No calling her a mudblood?”

Tom leaned against the nearest tree, seemingly unaffected by Harry’s sharp tone.

“I never truly had anything against Muggleborns. For many years, I despised Purebloods as much as they despised Muggleborns.” Tom smiled. More of a showing of teeth than a true smile. “I was in Slytherin, Harry. Tom Riddle wasn’t a Pureblood name. You can imagine how my first years there were.” Tom sighed, looking far older than the teenager he appeared to be. “Dumbledore was always fast to point out my lack of friends. Though he never seemed to see the disdain that the other students had for me. Slytherin House despised me for my impure blood, while the other Houses avoided me due to my sorting.”

Harry could see it. A young Tom, new to the wizarding world, knowing next to nothing about the society he was now a part of and then ending up in Slytherin.

“How did you survive?”

Harry hadn’t realized, he had asked the question out loud until he heard Tom chuckle.

“I grew powerful. I hurt them before they hurt me. I rose above them.”

“You became Voldemort.”

Tom didn’t break eye contact.

“Yes.”

Then he was gone.

Harry leaned down, picking up the daffodils left behind.

***

“What are you two up to?” Harry asked as Hermione and Ron grew quiet when he joined them in the library.

The other two shared a look, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been working on your Christmas gift,” Ron told him.

“Already? There’s still two weeks until winter break.”

“We had to get it ready before. We wouldn’t have the things we need once we were back at Snuffle’s place,” Hermione said.

Ron and Hermione traded another look.

“Look, Harry, you’re my best mate. My brother, really. You know that, right?”

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked instead of answering. This wasn’t normal Ron behavior, and he was tempted to check for Polyjuice.

The tip of Ron’s ears turned red, but his friend didn’t look away.

“Just… we trust you, all right? Hermione and me. We trust you above anyone else. I know I screwed up last year, and we messed up during the summer when we listened to Dumbledore. But… you’re our best mate. We’re trying to do better. To be better. This Christmas gift is us telling you, we trust you and whatever decision you make.”

Hermione was beaming at Ron, but Harry could only stare at his best friends.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry said after several moments of silence.

Hermione chuckled, and she slipped a book and a small package across the table.

“Read the book first, then open the package,” she told him. “I would use the Room of Requirement.”

However, Harry wasn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes were locked on the book whose title proudly proclaimed _1001 Plants And Their Meaning_.

***

“You’re here early today,” Tom said, appearing right in front of Harry outside the circle.

Harry smiled. “I had some things to do. Were you spying today?”

Tom frowned but shook his head. “I was looking in on Voldemort. He’s getting worse. He’s obsessed with you.”

“He?”

Harry kept his tone steady, refusing to betray the wild thumping of his heart.

“I told you. There is no Tom Riddle left in that creature.”

Harry hummed, slowly stepping closer.

“Tom Riddle. Voldemort. Which one would you rather be?”

Tom tilted his head. “I think that’s clear, isn’t it? I am far more than Voldemort could ever be. Even now, while he walks the realm of the living while I am trapped between the worlds, I am more than he is. More soul, more magic, more _human_ , than he could ever be.”

Harry had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Then, before Tom could react, Harry reached out and pulled him into the circle.

Tom was looking at him wide-eyed, and Harry let his grin spread on his lips.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

Tom swallowed, and for a moment, Harry was afraid he would refuse. However, Tom just stared into his eyes and nodded.

“Kneel.”

Tom did so, and Harry knelt right in front of him. Then, he picked up a rune craved dagger that he had prepared earlier and slashed his hand.

He smeared the blood on Tom’s cheek, the words he had painstakingly memorized slipping past his lips.

“ _Nafsi iliyopotea ikitetemesha miundo kwa damu hii, ikitolewa kwa hiari, nakufunga kwenye ndege ya kufa_.”

The mistletoes around them lit up in flame, though they didn’t burn, and Harry continued the ritual.

He leaned forward, sealing his lips over Tom’s. His first kiss, meaning so much more than he had ever thought possible.

“ _Nafsi iliyopotea ikitetemesha hali kwa busu hii, kwa kushirikiana kwa hiari, mimi hupumua kupumua maisha ndani yako.”_

The mistletoes flared even brighter, and Harry prepared himself for the last part. He opened his shirt and withholding a wince carved the rune for life over his heart.

“ _Nafsi iliyopotea inatafuta mioyo kwa moyo huu, inayotolewa kwa hiari, nawapa maisha ya kifo_.”

The whole clearing burst into light, and the rune on his chest flared with it. Then, in the back of his mind, he could hear a second beat, and he slumped forward, relieved beyond words.

“What have you done?”

Harry almost couldn’t hear Tom’s soft whisper.

He straightened, looking into Tom’s dark blue eyes where the awe was plain to see.

“I’m afraid there will be no more spying for you, Tom,” he said, a small grin stretching his lips.

Tom seemed shocked beyond words. Slowly, Tom raised his shaking hands and cupped Harry’s face.

“Why?” Tom whispered, as if afraid that any louder sound would break the fragile quiet that had fallen over them.

Harry smiled at him. Then, out of the pocket of his robes, he took out a flower and held it to Tom.

Tom pulled a hand away from his cheek and took it, looking it over.

“Rainflower,” he murmured, eyes wide.

Then, Tom surged forward, stealing away Harry’s second kiss, and Harry could only hope that all the following ones could be just as magical as these.

_Zephyranthes_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Clovenlip toadflax - Please notice my love/feelings for you  
> Rue - Regret, sorrow, repentance  
> Lavender - Devotion, distrust  
> Campanulas/Bellflower - Unwavering Love  
> Daffodil - Uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, return my affection; new beginnings  
> Rainflower - I love you back, I must atone for my sins, I will never forget you
> 
> \-----  
> The ritual:  
> Lost soul wandering the realms by this blood, willingly given, I bind thee to the mortal plane.  
> Lost soul wandering the realms by this kiss, willingly shared, I breathe the breath of life into thee.  
> Lost soul wandering the realms by this heart, willingly offered, I give thee a mortal life.  
> Google translated to Swahili
> 
> \-----  
> This can stand on its own. However, I'm planning, once I have time, to add a second part to this.


End file.
